Drunk
by sleepintheharding
Summary: She was the addiction he knew he desperately needed to quit, but he also knew he didn't possess the self-control to do so. Every day that passed, he tried to persuade himself that he had to move on, he had to let go. He knew she was only destroying him and his chance for a happy ending.


**Drunk**

Co-written by Emily (MustacheYouAQuestion)

She was alcohol to an alcoholic.

She was the addiction he knew he desperately needed to quit, but he also knew he didn't possess the self-control to do so. Every day that passed, he tried to persuade himself that he had to move on, he had to let go. He knew she was only destroying him and his chance for a happy ending.

But he didn't let go, and he kept her locked in his mind like an alcoholic keeps bottles hidden in the corners of his home. He needed her there for security-just in case. He was afraid.

He would let go, he told himself, at the end of this year. Or perhaps next year. Or maybe his efforts were as futile as those who sign up for gym memberships in January, only to resort to the habits of a couch potato by Valentine's Day. He swore that his attachment to their past accelerated the passing of time, until it was one, two, three, four years later.

He was writing about her, his ex-girlfriend, while he was in a committed relationship with a lovely woman named Nicole. Labeling Aria as his ex-girlfriend felt as heartbreaking as being nothing but her high school English teacher. But on the surface, and according to everyone else, that was who she was, and that was who he was. If he wrote their story, maybe she'd be more than his ex-girlfriend. Maybe she'd be his most epic love story. He knew it was dangerous. She was dangerous.

Nicole was everything he needed when she entered his life just as Aria left. She was a breath of fresh air, a blinding contrast from the complications of Rosewood. She made him feel normal, but also extraordinary. They were extraordinary. They traveled around the world trying to make a difference, and during this life-changing experience, they developed a deep love for one another. She was everything he was looking for.

But he couldn't let go.

Nicole was kind and loving. She saw the good in everyone she met. She saw the best in him, but maybe she shouldn't have. She was kind, but maybe _he was not._

He loved her, so why did he hide the alcohol in the corners of his home?

They were staying in a spare room in the home of an older married couple near Bogota, Colombia, who had recently become empty nesters when their youngest daughter was married. The country had been a lot more dangerous in past decades, but in the last fifteen years, it had increased its security efforts and was deemed safe for volunteers. As long as they remained in the designated "safe" areas, they'd be fine, the volunteer organization said. The couple treated them as if they were their own children, but also gave them privacy.

They were getting ready to explore the nightlife that Bogota has to offer. Nicole waited on the edge of the bed in the cramped room while Ezra dug through a dresser drawer trying to find a clean pair of socks to wear. They'd been there for three weeks and he hated doing laundry.

"We've been together for so long and you've never let me read your writing," Nicole mentioned from behind him.

He turned around and saw her holding his journal, inspecting it only while shut. She was too kind and respectful to open it without his consent, but he knew she'd always been tempted.

"Don't you trust me?" She sounded sad, but not like she was trying to make him feel bad. It was a natural sadness that made his heart heavy with guilt. "I know your words are brilliant, Ezra."

He forced a smile and nodded, then gestured toward the leather bound pages. "Go ahead," he encouraged her, moving his hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I can't promise you'll enjoy it."

Nicole smiled up at him and rolled her eyes.

Maybe she wouldn't notice. Maybe she'd assume that she's his muse-because, after all, she _should_ have been. Why was he writing about a woman who was no longer in his life? Time heals all wounds, but sometimes it takes longer than one expects. Sometimes _time_ needed a friend, and for Ezra, that friend was the written word. Writing was his therapy. And Aria was his alcohol.

She opened the cover and he took a seat beside her. She started to read his words out loud.

" _She was a firecracker. An explosive, encompassing, ardent brain that burned with brilliance and beauty. The gaping cavity of her chest rubbed raw day in and day out, the heart inside too big and hanging too low in the tiny body that held it. She was a fixer-there was nothing she didn't want to be a part of, nothing she could leave broken without trying to put the pieces back together herself. That was one of the reasons that he loved her-that and so many more. Why couldn't it be simple? Why couldn't he be happy?"_

As she read in her charming Australian accent, a smile plastered itself onto her face that became brighter and brighter with every word. For Ezra, he masked the awkwardness he felt to hear the voice inside his head out in the open, in the mouth of a woman who wasn't hidden in the corners of his brain.

" _She stood in the lamplight, her face still. He could pick out her face from a crowd in an instant-he knew the curve of her cheeks and the divots of her dimples, the soft waves of her dark hair, the pale blush of her skin. She looked like a movie star or a Renaissance painting-he couldn't decide which one._

 _His lips parted, and he took in the sight of her standing there, assimilated the look of distress on her face, the deep crease in her forehead._

 _And he thought for the smallest piece of a second that maybe there was nothing more but what they already were. That there was nothing worth her absence, nothing worth the cold sheets beside him at night, nothing worth the stillness of his life without her spiralling current. And he thought, a gruff epiphany of spontaneity-fuck it all without her, and plunged for her lips, the only thing that had ever made sense._

 _They kissed like there wasn't a tomorrow, like there weren't second opportunities in this world. They kissed like nothing was wrong, except everything-like they had everything, but nothing. She brought him chaotic peace and bewildering security, and he realized he had nothing to lose but her. She opened her eyes, the hazel colour bright in the lamplight, and he swore there was nothing on earth more perfect than her."_

Her tone began to change, her smile faded bit by bit, and he could feel her realization that perhaps the woman in the story was not who she had originally assumed. How could he write such poetry about a woman who wasn't her? What kind of monster was he? Her voice transitioned from pride in her boyfriend's writing, to consuming heartache.

" _And still there they were, stars reeling over head, the earth barely moving beneath them. He knew in that moment, whether they made it through this night or not, he'd finally found his match."_

Nicole slowly closed the journal and gently placed it on the bed, unable to look at Ezra. She wasn't mad. No, he could feel her heartache. It felt similar to his own, the one he'd felt so often in the past few years. It was an ache that was hidden in the corners of his mind where Aria stayed locked away.

"You're writing about her, aren't you?"

She couldn't look at him.

"Nicole…"

His voice cracked as he said her name.

"Please be honest with me."

He didn't want to be honest with her, but he also knew he couldn't lie. He didn't deserve her kindness. He didn't deserve to be sitting on the same bed with her at this moment.

She took a long, shaky breath. "I'm going to go for a walk," she told him. "I'll be back."

The irony in her last words were the primary cause for his nightmares in the months following. The last words she'd ever spoken were a lie-because she never came back. She was missing, they'd told him, but he knew she was gone.

He stopped writing about Aria like an addict who decides to quit the day they find out they have a terminal illness. It was too late. He destroyed his chance for a happy ending.

And then, like a cruel punch in the gut, Aria reentered his life just as he was trying to unclutter his mind and remove the traces of their past. If anything, he owed it to Nicole. But he found himself falling in love with the woman he was supposed to forget, and every day that she graced him with her presence, the guilt he carried only accumulated weight.

Aria was like alcohol. She wasn't what he needed, but she was what he wanted. She offered him momentary glimpses of peace, happiness, and security. And as much as he told himself to let go, his grip only tightened.

But maybe she was never alcohol.

Maybe she was another type of addiction.

Maybe she was _hope_.


End file.
